


I'm Sure Things Will Change

by dicksmarianne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Hogwarts, M/M, eighth year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicksmarianne/pseuds/dicksmarianne
Summary: When many of those who were supposed to graduate in 1998 received a subpar education (due to the interruption of a war and the tyranny of the teaching), they were given the opportunity to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to properly complete their education and their NEWT examinations.Hermione Granger returns in order to gain the qualifications she needs to enter the workforce with a fighting chance.Harry Potter returns because he wants to prove that he has the ability to achieve and be successful without any special treatment.Draco Malfoy returns because he is given an ultimatum: return to complete his education or spend five years under house arrest.The three of them want to prove themselves, work hard, and simply be students attending a normal (...) school. But when you're Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, or Draco Malfoy your expectations of what is 'normal' are much, much more exceptional.





	1. Prologue

Although he didn't so much as blink, Harry Potter was deeply startled when the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry appeared suddenly, spinning in his fireplace. There was a moment were Harry stood frozen to the spot, watching as his old Transfiguration teacher steadied herself on the bricks, before he rushed forwards to help her. She did not smile as she stepped onto the carpeted floor and graciously dusted herself off, however there was a softness hidden in the severity of her eyebrows. She nodded stiffly at the boy whom she had not seen in months. Warmth flared in her chest at the sight of him, although she did not show it, which was damped only as she looked deeper into his face and found the pain hidden in the dark bags under his eyes. 

"Potter." She greeted him warily, sensing that she was an unwanted guest. She glanced around the under furnished room, hoping that Harry had simply not had time to unpack since moving in on his own. She had persuaded Hermione Granger to reveal Harry's address after she had refused to disclose his decision on the matter of his return to Hogwarts. And as he had refused to answer any of the owls she had sent his way, the Headmistress had been forced to make an impromptu visit. With any other student she would have moved on, recognised the lost cause, and dedicated her time to more pressing matters. But something about Harry's silence had unsettled her. And although she refused to admit it, even to herself, her visit was one primarily of love and concern, not business.

"Headmistress," he replied, taking on the same formal tone she had used. He knew why she had appeared in his fireplace, but he wished he didn't. He wished he could ignore her, run away, avoid having to make a decision. But the Professor meant a lot to him, and he had too much respect for her to even turn his head away. 

"I'm sure you know why I'm here. It's August 21st. You have been invited back to Hogwarts under special circumstances and although I'm sure you are a busy man, I had expected you to have the common courtesy of responding to my owls. But seeing as you are intent on hiding, I was forced to seek out Miss Granger and convince her to share your address. Now, Mr Potter, are you planning on returning to Hogwarts this year or not?" 

Harry sighed, resignation taking over his features. He knew the answer, but saying it out loud just felt so final. He felt like he was signing his own death certificate, yet returning to the first place he had ever been able to call home should have been a joyous time. So why was there a deep, sinking feeling in his chest and a need to run far, far away? 

"I- I just don't know." 

"Well you'd better make up your mind. You have until the 25th. That is the latest I can accept your attendance. Space is limited this year Potter. No matter what your decision, I expect you to contact me." Harry nodded mutely and watched as Professor McGonagall a step back towards the fireplace.

"Potter," her voice was soft, "I understand that it's difficult. But you have to focus on your good memories of Hogwarts, for they must outweigh the bad. After all, if they didn't, you wouldn't even be considering returning." And with a small, tight small she disappeared in a flash of green flame and Harry was left standing alone in his living room, an emptiness sucking at his heart and pulling at him as he sunk to the floor with his head in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was tired.

He'd been awake almost all night and now, at precisly 4:17am, he was ready to scream. Thoughts and memories were racing around his head, panic and pain were pumping through his veins. He needed sleep, but if he were being honest, he really just needed a break. Just some time without flashing cameras, shouting and crying, some time where he could sit and reflect and heal. He just needed time, yet there were people closing in on him on all sides, the pressure squeezing him into a corner from which there was no escape. He couldn't focus. Voices and names tickled in his ears, making him squirm. Blood washed and stained his eyes. The darkness danced around him, taunting him with their shadows. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't join them, couldn't disappear. And so they teased him, reminded him of his failure, of the death and the air that he stole from the lungs of another with each, gasping breath. Panic stormed his heart, squeezing at his insides and closing up his throat. A small cry was all that was heard as he succumbed and allowed himself to curl up under the sheets and surround himself in his own warmth.

When Professor McGonagall had arrived, unannounced, at his apartment that evening, he'd felt something inside him break. He'd been strong all throughout the funerals and the goodbyes, through the rebuild effort at Hogwarts, through all the interviews and the photos. He'd moulded himself a smile and pasted it to his lips. It was easy to pretend to be the hero, the saviour that everyone thought he was. It was easy to pretend to be strong. But when she had spun into existence right in front of his eyes, a familiar face remaining genuinely strong throughout the years, he remembered that it was all an act and sooner or later he would have to face the reality of his life. He would have to face the fact that time was moving forward, without him. People expected him to do things, great things, but Harry felt as though he was finished. He'd completed his destiny, he'd done what everyone had expected from him. Yet they still couldn't leave him alone. Whenever he entered Diagon Alley (or any other wizarding dwelling place for that matter) he was mobbed by young girls, reporters, cameramen, and even old ladies who tried to coax him into having tea at their place. They were all waiting, albeit with minimal patience, for his next extraordinary act. But Harry was done. He didn't want the spotlight, he just wanted to move on, to forget, to fade away. And returning to Hogwarts, the location of some of his worst memories, certainly didn't seem like the way to do it. But did he have a choice? Did he truly have a choice? He knew Hermione was returning, she had written him daily letters begging him to do the same, trying to be of comfort. Ron was not returning, he was mourning. He was allowed to mourn. According to the public, he was a background character, important for development but not really for the big ending. He had time to mourn, to let his life slow to living day by day. He didn't have to think of the future. And despite how badly Harry wanted everything to stop, he knew that joining Ron on his path would be dangerous and unhealthy. He needed to stayed distracted, needed to keep moving, or else the memories would stalk up behind him and cover his eyes, cloud his head, and force him down under their grimy hands.

Harry wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up, pushing the sheets away from his body. It was a cool night and Harry, wearing only worn pyjama bottoms, shivered as he felt around for his bedside table.

"Lumos," he muttered, his wand flaring into existence just left of his fingertips. He found his glasses and shoved them onto his nose, grabbed his wand and stumbled out of bed. The apartment was completely silent, aside from the muffled traffic outside, and the shadows that stretched made him feel jumpy. He padded down the hallway in his bare feet, ignoring how cold the wood was on the soles of his feet. He reached the kitchen and slumped down against the bench, knowing there was no way he could refuse McGonagall's offer.

 

_____

 

As Harry made his way into Diagon Alley, having recieved his book list earlier that morning, he was incredibly conscious of all the stares. He had hoped to meet Hermione so that she could divert some of the attention and simply keep him company, but she had already gotten all of her books and was, apparently, far too busy to meet him. So Harry was trying to keep his head down. He knew he'd already been noticed as many of the wizards gathered in the alley were starting to crowd, far too excited to remember that, just like them, he was simply there to shop. They wanted autographs, they wanted hugs, they wanted to buy his books, wanted to buy him lunch, wanted to accompany him. Within seconds the street was blocked from both directions. Harry was tempted to simply apparate home and pretend that he hadn't agreed to return to Hogwarts. But with only three days before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave Kings Cross, Harry felt he had procrastinated enough. He knew that he was probably the last Hogwarts students to get his books and he was hoping they weren't out of stock (did magical shops run out of stock?).

"Harry! Harry!" Harry turned his head towards the shouts and found a young girl, red in the face, screaming and waving at him. He gave her a soft smile and couldn't help but hope that she still had another year to go before she started at Hogwarts. He wanted a peaceful year and knew that 'fans' would not oblige with his wishes. But of course, the universe was not on his side.

"Harry! I'm going to join Gryffindor this year so that we can share a common room! Harry! I heard that girls can enter the boys dormitories! Is that true? Harry?!" Harry wasn't sure how her voice box hadn't exploded, she was screaming loud enough to be heard over the entire crowd. Then suddenly she was beside him, pulling him down to her height with surprising strength.

"I love you. You're my hero," she whispered, before letting go of him and running away screaming to her mother that she'd touched Harry Potter. Harry stood frozen in shock. Luckily he recovered quickly as the girl seemed to be a catalyst, and the entire crowd suddenly closed in, screaming Harry's name and extending their hands to (supposedly) shake his. Before anyone could reach him, Harry pushed his way through the thinest part and found himself inside the Apothecary. The door tinkled shut behind him and the few people browsing in the shop paid him no attention. None of the crowd attempted to follow him in, as for some reason they seemed to deem that inappropriate. Harry took his time looking through the shop for the potions ingredients the needed for NEWTs. He was genuinely terrified to sit his NEWTs, knowing that he had really struggled to do as well on his OWLs as he did. He had a feeling that he was going to be spending a lot of the year in the library with Hermione. Which was fine, at least in the library Madam Prince always ensured silence.

Harry spent about an hour in the Apothecary waiting for the crowd peering inside to disperse. It wasn't until it began to pour with rain that people began to leave. Many children were carted off crying, begging to stay and talk to Harry Potter, but their parents were absolute. Harry almost felt sorry for them, however there were many more interesting people for them to worship. Many more people who deserved their worship. Once only a few people who were actually intending to shop were milling around, Harry exited the Apothecary and wandered down the Alley until he reached Flourish and Blotts. The woman behind the counter nodded politely to Harry as he entered and allowed him to float through the shop, peacefully and silently.

By the time Harry arrived back home he was exhausted and soaked. He hadn't been bothered to protect himself from the rain as he made his way up and down Diagon Alley. He placed his bags of school supplies on the table and slouched into the bathroom, stripping his clothes as he went. Harry was prepared for a hot bath, left over shepherds pie for dinner, and an early night.

 

______

 

The train ride to Hogwarts was reasonably uneventful. Harry, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny all sat in silence, some watching the scenery, some reading, and some simply sitting. The silence, and the absence of Ron, washed over them like a cold rain. There were no words to be said, no one itching to gossip, to chatter, to converse. They simply sat in stony silence, stares never meeting, breathing synchronised.

The silence was impenetrable; even the smallest cough or grumbling tummy was sucked in to the rumbling of the train and the faint chatter of other students. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Even Harry, who had been enjoying the peace up until this point, was starting to feel the itch of sitting still for so long. He desperately wanted a distraction from everything, from the obvious changes and negatives of the trip, yet none were offered to him. He could feel Hermione's leg against his and the warmth from beneath her skirt contrasted greatly with the cold from the side of the train compartment that his other leg was subjected to. Harry supposed he should be treasuring his last ever train journey to Hogwarts, however, after all he had been through inside those castle walls, he was almost dreading his return. 

As they pulled into Hogsmeade station and boarded the carriages to take them to the school, Harry was doing his best to not count the heads that could clearly see the thestrals standing in front of them. It made him far too sad to think about what it meant, and even more sad to notice the lack of eighth years in the crowd around him. He had hoped that many would return, that he could almost convince himself that it was a normal year. But with only twenty-something heads he recognised from his year, Harry was forced to admit that maybe he had made the wrong choice.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue of the first work I have posted in a long, long time (like at least five years) and the first time I have posted on this site. I am very passionate about both writing and Harry Potter and after years of avoiding the stress of writing fan fiction like the plague, the ideas and the desire to show the world what I have created with Harry Potter in my mind began to force me to warm up to the idea. I was always one of those authors who published three chapters and then gave up, lost motivation. And I can't promise that this work won't be the same, however I will do my best to actually finish a work for once.


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